In His Eyes
by Kihin Ranno
Summary: When he loved her, his eyes were green, and when he hated her, they were grey. She has not forgotten.


In His Eyes  
Written for the Sailor Moon Monthly Fanfiction Challenge  
March Challenge - Day Thirteen: Green  
Written for My Venus/Kunzite Claim at Fanfic100  
Prompt 14: Green  
by Kihin Ranno  
PG-13  
1/1

She wasn't there when he came back. She doesn't remember where she was at the time – possibly scouting out her own planet to judge whether or not it could be inhabited again or visiting some lesser province on a diplomatic mission. And perhaps she was on a secret vacation with a lover who didn't realize that Aino Minako and Sailor Venus were one and the same. Whatever the case, she'd been contacted by Mercury, white-faced and tight-lipped. And while it was possible that her memories have distorted the reality, Venus remembers her saying only two words.

"They're back."

In her memories, she doesn't have to ask who "they" are. She knows with a sureness that sends her running to the bathroom, fearful she'll be sick. Venus is certain it never happened, but she does remember sitting on the cold tile, trembling at her bloody memories.

She didn't go home immediately even though she should have. She stayed right where she was – wherever she was – and finished her business. Surprisingly, she was not contact by Mars scolding her for her distance or Serenity fretting over her absence. All of them give her distance, and she still wonders how they knew to do that.

Finally, the time came for her to return. She must have tried to think of a million ways to postpone her return, and she's surprised that one of them didn't seem suitable. But on the scheduled day, she returned. She no longer knows how.

She was not greeted upon her arrival, a fact that made her paranoid. First, she walked down the hallways, searching for her friends and for her enemies. Then she started running.

It was a cruel coincidence that she ran – literally, ran – into him of all people. Though she knows to mistrust her recollections, she is certain that this is not a distortion. Her shoulder impacted with what felt like a brick wall, but before she could so much as wince or begin to fall back, hands reached out to steady her. Her skin tingled on contact, her blood heating up so that she was afraid it would melt her bones. She shook, scared and furious and righteous and above all hopeful. She looked up, seeking out his eyes deliberately, knowing just how high to look up and just how strong she had to be to not crumble beneath them.

Green.

She'd wanted to sag in relief, but of course she hadn't. It proved nothing. The King stepping out from behind him proved nothing either. Even after accounting for all of her Senshi, for her queen, and for the rest of "them," nothing had been proven. All she knew for certain was that for the moment, her friends were safe, she was home, and Kunzite's eyes were still green.

Every time she met him after that, she went straight for his eyes, but she felt no relaxation as a result. If anything, it made her that much more uneasy. The inevitable had not yet happened, and she was going to spend more time seeking the traitor in him out. She took no joy from it.

Predictably, it didn't take him long to figure out what she was doing.

"Are my eyes the satisfactory color, Venus?" he'd asked one night. They were alone, and she was in no mood to deal with him. She'd come back from a date that hadn't gone well.

Venus – well, Minako at the time – had not been pleased. She remembers now that there had been no malice in the question. It had simply been an inquiry, as if he was asking her for confirmation. Still, she took offense. She narrowed her eyes, although she now could not recall if she had been upset by his presence, by her date, or by the uncomfortable butterflies doing gymnastics routines in her stomach.

"For now," she said, a bit surprised at her venom.

He'd looked at her for a moment and then laughed. Laughed of all things. It made her furious. "You should count yourself lucky you don't put Jadeite under this much scrutiny. He'd wear contacts just so you'd be exposed."

"Then he'd have a death wish," she snapped.

That made him uneasy. He closed his eyes. "I see you haven't heard him with Mars."

It wasn't the last thing she wanted to hear, but it wasn't something she welcomed either. "I don't want to hear about that."

Kunzite opened his eyes a bit. "So you do remember them."

"There's very little I don't remember," she countered, curling her toes in anger. She felt fury well up from her chest, boiling in her throat, and spilling into her mouth. They came out so quickly that she is now surprised she didn't stutter at all. "I remember receiving word from what troops were left alive that my kingdom had been attacked. I remember being told that you led them in, that you killed my father and my brother and left my mother and sisters to the monsters, which were not kind enough to simply murder. I remember seeing you on the battle field, a sword made of my people's bone and stained with their blood. I remember thinking I had killed you, wishing that you had been kind enough to do me the same service, and then feeling your blade pierce my heart. And I remember being grateful for it."

He looked just as sick as she felt being reminded of his shadowed past. He swallowed, and she suspected it was not just to gain his composure. "I--"

"So, yes I do look at your eyes now. Because I also remember that when you loved me, they were green, and when you killed me, they were grey. And do you blame me, Kunzite?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders. Her shoes were in her hands and there were blisters on her bare feet. "Can you blame me after what happened?"

His answer was immediate, which surprised her. It was rare that he did not hesitate at least a moment to consider his answer. "I would never blame you for that."

His voice was quiet, resigned. She had to remind herself that she could not pity him.

"Then why bring it up at all?" she asked, and for reasons she will never understand, this was the moment her voice began to break.

"Because I want you to know that I would never blame you for that."

She blinked, a tear trickling down her face. "What?"

"You have every right to…" he trailed off, searching for the right word to convey the severity of her feelings. "You have every right," he finished, knowing that all of his options were inadequate.

She furrowed her brow, puzzled. She had not been expecting this reaction. She was not sure what she had been expecting, but it was not this… reasonable. "You're not going to ask me to forgive you?"

"Someday I will," Kunzite promised. "But not tonight. I would never ask you to forgive me tonight."

The sense of it made her head swim, but then, she's never been good with sound logic. "When?"

He smiled sadly. "When I think you'll say yes."

Sensing some undertones to that sentence, she took a step back, shaking her head. "Kunzite--"

"I will not ask you to love me again," he whispered. She looked up into his eyes again, floored by his candor. She forgot to look and see if they were green.

"I won't," he continued, asserting his position. "I won't even ask you to me friend. I won't ask for impossible things."

She remembered absently thinking he was quoting something, but she couldn't remember what of course. "But you're asking me to stop looking."

"Keep looking," he said. There was something strange in his voice.

She looked up, sensing darkness there. "Are you worried?" she asked, knowing full well that there was no need to elaborate on her meaning.

"I'm like you," Kunzite confessed. "I'm always worried."

And then he left her, her bare legs broken out in bumps from the cold, her shoes hanging from her fingers, and that one tear stubbornly clinging to her cheek.

It was not when she was able to stop resenting him. It was not when he began to approach her as more than cold acquaintances. It was not the first time he made her laugh. It was not the first time he held her. It was not the first time they kissed, made love, or when he asked her an entirely different question than the one he promised. But it was the first time they understood each other, and so, it is how she always defines the beginning of their beginning.

No one else understands this, of course, and blames it on her tendency to have convoluted reasoning. After all, it took her almost a century to take the first step towards rebuilding. And even after that, there were plenty of setbacks, moments when her suspicions threatened to destroy them both – separately and as one. There were arguments, tears, and quite a bit of property damaged and alcohol consumed. But there she is, lying in his bed and thinking of that night.

Her thoughts wander to those few moments often, though more so now. They are married now, and still he has never asked her that question. 'Will you forgive me?'

It's ridiculous thinking about it, but it concerns her. Why has he stayed silent? Endymion smiles and says that he already knows, Nephrite is certain he's forgotten, and Jadeite rolls his eyes and says that Kunzite will always think she's going to say no. Zoisite never says anything at all, and maybe that's what worries her.

She's never going to bring it up. It was once a sore subject between them, and she has no intention of opening up old wounds and screaming out old arguments. After all, she knows the answer. And perhaps Endymion is correct in thinking Kunzite does too.

She's forgiven him, really, but she still begins every morning searching for a pair of green eyes.


End file.
